


Test Run

by Perosha



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Gen, Pre-Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-14 12:50:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8014660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Perosha/pseuds/Perosha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[358/2 Days] Prior to Xion's formal introduction to the Organization, Vexen takes the newly-activated No. i on a quick test run.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Test Run

“Consider this your first lesson, of a sort.”

It did not react to his words, and so his next were sharper.

“I am addressing you, No. _i._ And whatever functions you may still lack, I know your ears work correctly. Acknowledge when you are spoken to.”

The hooded head tilted, such an imperceptible motion that it might easily have been missed. Vexen’s scowl deepened. Twilight Town’s perpetual sunset cast unflattering shadows across his long face, emphasizing the hollows of his sunken cheeks.

“Hmph. I suppose that will have to do for now.”

Turning away, he frowned at the downtown plaza whose outskirts they had reached from the back streets. Not deserted, but nearly so, and several of the shops near at hand had signs on the front stating that their proprietors were out to lunch. All to the good, and exactly why he’d chosen to come at this hour of the afternoon. Twilight Town was a quiet place to begin with, and the fewer locals they encountered, the better.

“You are scheduled to be formally presented within the next few days,” Vexen told the silent figure at his side. “Obviously you are not fully functional yet, but nevertheless I still expect you to conduct yourself with some modicum of intelligence. You will be passing as an elite Nobody. That entails mimicking human behavior.” He studied the hooded Replica critically, noting its stiff posture with dissatisfaction. “A feat for which you have so far demonstrated precious little aptitude. Though, given the state you’re in…Well.” He grimaced. “Technical obstacles there may be, but nevertheless I will not have you embarrassing me with any untoward displays of incompetence. Is that clear?”

He received no reply, except for his own stifled noise of exasperation.

No. _i_ ’s uninspiring condition was to be expected, of course. The newly christened Roxas existing at the same time as Sora was a situation that defied theory and experience both, and if the girl Naminé was what Vexen suspected she was, that complicated the matter further. Thus he had not been completely surprised when the application of the requisite data to the Replica template produced not a second Keyblade wielder, fully functional and complete, but had simply instilled more vigor into the template than had existed previously. Whether the Replica would develop Sora or Roxas’s physical appearance was uncertain, but at this point, that hardly mattered. All that mattered was that it become able to summon a Keyblade.

Really, he mused, there was nothing for it except to keep the thing away from Roxas until it fully absorbed the data and stabilized. A week, maybe two. The Keyblade would appear when it had adjusted sufficiently to the input. But until then…Well, it was hardly going to make a favorable impression at present, was it? In its few days of official existence, it had not even learned to speak yet. Even the zombie-like Roxas could manage that on occasion.

“Our purpose here today,” Vexen continued, his gaze sweeping the plaza, “is for me to test your abilities, such as they currently are. I expect you to mature much further in due time, but I will not have you presented if you cannot at least perform menial tasks. After you are renamed, you will be held to the same standard as a numbered member of the Organization—a level of responsibility for which you are currently distressingly unfit.” He looked down at it, his gaze sharp. “Do you understand what I am saying to you, No. _i?”_

A pause, and then another tiny nod.

“Good.” That was something, at least. “Come along, then. Stay close to me and observe your surroundings. Take in as much data as you can.”

They started walking—or rather, he started, and after a pause the Replica clumsily followed him. He was not expecting it to do much today, but improving its motor skills was a reasonable enough goal to start with. More importantly, it had never been exposed to any environment beyond the Organization’s two castle strongholds, neither of which provided much variety in the way of sensory stimulation. Given how fragile it still was after the data implant, there was some risk it might be overwhelmed by the sudden barrage of stimulation from a busier environment, and if that were the case, Vexen would much rather discover the problem before it was officially presented to the others. If it reacted poorly to today’s excursion, he still had time to fiddle with it before the ceremony.

They crossed the plaza. The hem of Vexen’s too-long coat skimmed the ground like a gown, though years of practice kept him from tripping over it. The Replica was not so coordinated. Twice it stumbled and nearly fell, the first time righting itself and the second time accidentally colliding with the small of Vexen’s back, making him stifle a yelp of surprise.

“Control yourself, No. _i,”_ he spat, one eye narrowing as he glowered. “Or do you want to cause a commotion and attract the locals?”

In fact Vexen’s tall frame and exaggerated behavior were far more noticeable than anything the Replica had yet done, but he did not seem aware of this. He glared at the small figure and put a hand on its upper back, shoving it further up the street.

Together they followed a ribbon of sidewalk past rows of mostly-shuttered shops, the Replica’s gait gradually evening out as it trailed behind him as closely as it could. Vexen muttered to himself under his breath as a matter of habit, but the longer they walked without attracting attention, the louder and more coherent his snippets of self-talk became, until after a few minutes he finally started lecturing the Replica directly, sometimes gesturing to emphasize a point. The absence of people within earshot was not what had made him do this—he tended to hold forth under any pretext—but with no danger of being overheard, his lecturing was more frank than it might have been otherwise.

“—bother listening to anything Xigbar says, he finds causing mischief entirely too amusing for someone of his rank. And be warned that he’ll almost certainly give you an unflattering nickname, he seems to find that amusing as well. Hmph. Though, regarding names…I’m told you’ll be given a proper one before the presentation ceremony, but if the Superior has settled on it yet, he has yet to pass the designation on to me. Whatever it is, you must learn to answer to it promptly.”

He stopped in front of a signpost that explained the awkward junction of three streets, his large eyes darting first across the road names and then up and down each street, mentally mapping, taking note of landmarks and how this intersection related to the parts of downtown that he knew more thoroughly. Beside him, the Replica stood still and silent, like a clockwork toy whose spring had broken, and yet when Vexen headed down the leftmost street, it jerkily followed suit without his prompting.

Now Vexen slowed his stride just enough to let the Replica keep pace so that he could more closely observe its walk cycle, assessing the way it handled the sloping, bumpy streets. It would hardly win any awards, but already it was noticeably more coordinated than when they’d arrived. That wasn’t saying much, to be sure, but at least it was proof the thing wasn’t completely hopeless.

Baby steps, Vexen reminded himself, trying to combat his own frustration. The Replica’s pathetically slow development was nothing to do with its construction and everything to do with the unusual properties of the data it had been given to duplicate. Surely the other unit would work immediately as intended if given more straightforward data to copy. He’d have to test it one of these days...

Lost in his own ruminations, it took Vexen a moment to realize the Replica had disappeared. When he did, he stopped short, trapping a growl in the back of his throat as he pivoted.

The Replica had halted several yards back and was standing in front of a shop window, staring past the OUT TO LUNCH sign at the rows of bright clothes, its posture so oddly rigid that it looked like a mannequin that the store had put out on the curb for disposal. Vexen was so much taller than it that when he approached, he cast the small figure completely into shadow.

“And what, precisely, do you think you’re doing?”

The hooded head turned upwards, letting him see more of the face beneath, though ‘face’ was perhaps a generous word. It had the eerie look of a doll: wide-eyed and smooth-skinned, without any of the color and texture that made a human face look natural. The gray eyes were reflective and glassy, and its small mouth sat fixed in a soft non-expression, neither frowning nor smiling. It did not blink while Vexen glared down at it, and Vexen realized it had touched the shop window with one gloved hand, fingers splayed, as if interested in the bright clothing on display.

“Curious, are you? Hmph. This is hardly the time to indulge it.” He turned away, speaking over his shoulder. “But it would be to your advantage to cultivate that curiosity when you can. I expect you’ll be tasked with reconnaissance every so often. Observing your surroundings and making deductions will become an important skill—one you must practice like any other. Now come.”

The Replica let go of the window, tottering after him.

He swept forward, picking up his pace slightly to see if it could follow, and to his surprise it could, though not without difficulty. It stumbled over the curb as they crossed the street, but managed to keep from falling face-forward onto the pavement, staggering and then regaining its balance more quickly than he’d ever seen it do. Vexen snorted.

“Hardly a portrait of gracefulness, are you? But I suppose you’re improving somewhat.”

Silence answered him. He scoffed.

“You’re going to have to learn how to speak, you know.”

It looked up at him blankly, still silent. He grimaced at it, and when its mouth opened slightly, he waited in mounting impatience for a reply that did not come.

“Well, don’t strain yourself,” he said, when it did not produce so much as a whisper. “If you can’t manage it yet, then so be it. But you should at least make an effort.”

So it did. As they walked the Replica moved its lips soundlessly, as if sight-reading something, and so intent was it upon this daunting task that it drifted a few paces away from Vexen, even pulling ahead of him when he paused to glance up at a sign fastened to the side of a building. Vexen looked up just in time to see it crossing the street as a tram rounded the corner ahead.

Hissing, Vexen darted forward and yanked the Replica back by its coat, out of the middle of the street.

“Idiot thing! What have I been telling you? You must pay attention to your surroundings at all times!”

He kept a tight grip on its coat as the tram glided past them through the street, bearing only a couple of passengers, at whom he glared. The Replica’s head turned to watch the tram disappear around the end of the block, and Vexen finally let go of it once the tram was safely out of sight. After a moment’s thought, however, he muttered something under his breath and caught the Replica’s wrist.

“A fine fiasco it would be if you broke yourself,” he growled, and marched forward with the Replica now physically in tow. It dragged along behind him for only a moment before quickening its steps to stay right beside him, giving no response to his malevolent grumbling. When his grip on its wrist loosened, the Replica gently caught hold of the dangling sleeve of his coat—almost, but not quite, holding his hand. Vexen, still muttering to himself, either did not notice or did not care.

They walked for another quarter of an hour without incident, Vexen griping under his breath at no one, the Replica clinging to him. Though its hooded head moved this way and that, looking at passersby and shopfronts and street signs, it had evidently learned its lesson, for it did not break away from Vexen to investigate these things, instead keeping as close to him as it could. At last they stopped again at an intersection, and Vexen noticed what it had done and shook his sleeve out of its weak grip.

“Be sensible,” he told it, “and keep your wits about you—such as they are. If you can’t even manage an excursion like this safely, we’ll have to hold off on giving you missions until you display some common sense.”

Silence.

“Are you listening, No. _i?”_

A hesitant nod. Vexen grimaced, warily eyeing a group of townspeople on the other side of the street, though they paid him and his companion no attention. The Replica watched them too, its blank face expressionless. Still, its head tracked to follow them as they headed away up the street, and Vexen watched it watch them before setting off again, in the opposite direction the locals had gone. The Replica followed at once.

He kept talking as they wandered, sometimes to himself but mostly to the Replica, doing less to point out what it ought to be noticing in their environment and more how it ought to behave once they returned to the castle. His list of warnings and admonishments seemed to have no end.

“And furthermore,” he was saying, “if you ever experience technical problems, your first course of action should be to come to me.” A thought struck him, and he added, in a snappish way that betrayed unease: “Do I make myself clear? You are not to inform the others—particularly Saïx—should anything go amiss.”

He scowled harder, seeing in his mind’s eye a chain of events that began with the Replica’s abrupt malfunction and ended with a summons from the Superior.

“You’re new scientific territory, I’ll grant that, but we need hardly parade your inevitable hiccups around the Organization. If something happens, seek me out at once. I will repair you. Do you understand?”

No. _i’s_ lack of a reaction only made him set his jaw, troubled by the possibility that it wouldn’t remember anything he told it today. Rather likely, in fact, given the state the thing was in. Sora’s Nobody himself was hardly faring better, despite having existed for several days now, and it had been evident even after cursory testing that Roxas had no conscious access to memories from Sora—a messy business indeed, and part of the reason why his Replica was taking so long to develop. True, the situation was intriguing from a scientific perspective, but it complicated the Organization’s plans. No small wonder that the Castle Oblivion business had been pushed ahead of schedule…

Vexen studied the trotting Replica. It walked much less clumsily now, almost completely human, if still a bit stiff. He allowed himself a glimmer of satisfaction. If it kept improving at this rate, it might actually be in decent shape by the time he left for Oblivion. The last thing he wanted was to have to concern himself with it while he was there. If it happened to damage itself while he was gone, he wouldn't be able to pop back to the World That Never Was and repair it--it would simply have to wait.

A shop they passed on the other side of the street made Vexen slow, then halt, the Replica stopping beside him. Its hooded head tilted to look up at him, perhaps expressing curiosity, but he paid it no heed, still staring across the street and debating with himself, his large eyes moving back and forth as he read the signs in the window.

He didn’t want to do it, precisely. Interacting with the locals was an annoyance at best, and hazardous at worst. But the purpose of this outing was to test how well No. _i_ was handling the kind of unpredictable stimulation it would be encountering on missions. Methodologically, it would be sloppy to leave an entire category of sense experience out of the experiment. The test had to be run, inconvenient as it was.

“Wait here,” he said to the Replica.

Vexen swept away, muttering. No. _i_ did not react to his sudden departure, standing motionless on the street corner like an unnerving statue. A few passersby on the other side of the street slowed to frown over at it, but did not investigate. When Vexen returned a minute later, he was holding a rectangular chunk of something blue on a stick, which he shoved under the Replica’s nose.

“This is food,” he announced, with the air of someone delivering bad news. “Of a sort, at any rate.”

The Replica did not take the proffered ice cream, and Vexen scowled, plunking it into the Replica’s hand. Its grip was weak, and he scowled harder, wrapping his larger hand around the Replica’s smaller one, forcing it to make a fist around the ice cream stick.

“You don’t really need to eat, but it won’t hurt you either—and you may be forced to do it from time to time. Sample this and note the sensation.”

The Replica stared at the ice cream blankly, though as it did everything blankly, it was impossible to know what this meant. Vexen huffed and guided the ice cream to its mouth, but when it still did not eat, his temper shortened.

“Are you daft?” he snapped. “You ought to have subliminal knowledge of a function this basic. Take a bite.”

The Replica did nothing, and so Vexen demonstrated by biting off a corner of the ice cream. Despite himself, his scowl lessened slightly. He examined the ice cream with one eye narrowed, then took another bite before forcing himself to hand it back.

“Go on, then. Surely you can manage that much.”

Now the hooded figure seemed to understand what was expected of it. Mechanically it raised the ice cream to its mouth and bit into the remaining corner.

The eyes did not widen, the blank face did not smile, but the salty sweetness must have registered nonetheless, because the small mouth chewed and swallowed with more verve than any of the Replica’s previous actions had yet displayed. It took another bite right away, and Vexen’s one narrowed eye narrowed further.

“That,” Vexen said, watching it eat, “is called _taste_. Something you won’t experience often, I expect, but you need to understand what it is when you do.”

Vexen turned away, continuing up the sidewalk. In so doing he missed seeing the little figure take one last bite of the ice cream before following along behind him, clutching the stick too tightly in its gloved fist. It did not hold the stick upright, and so left a trail of melted droplets on the sidewalk in its wake.

They ducked into a side street to avoid a group of teenagers, passing through the dark alleyway and heading downhill to emerge once again onto a main thoroughfare, this one less crowded. As they reached the end of the street, Vexen realized the Replica was still holding on to the half-eaten stick of ice cream.

“You’re free to dispose of that,” he said, “if you’ve got the gist of the experience.”

The Replica looked at the ice cream—or seemed to, as it was difficult to tell with its stiff features. Its next action, however, was quite clear: after a pause, it held the half-finished ice cream upwards, offering it to Vexen.

Vexen stared at it, squinting one eye. The Replica appeared to stare back, its features unreadable but its glassy eyes looking directly at him. Vexen huffed and plucked the ice cream out of its hand.

“I take it you’re through?”

The Replica made no sound. Vexen glared at the half-eaten ice cream bar, soft and melting around the places where it had been bitten, and then froze the whole thing solid with a thought. The large bite he promptly took insinuated that he liked the taste, though there was nothing else in his demeanor to corroborate this. Still, the annoyance in his voice became less pronounced as he turned and continued walking, his lecture now coming between bites of ice cream, No. _i_  striving to keep up.

“I can’t be certain what sort of missions you’ll be given initially, but I doubt they’ll be anything of consequence. Your purpose is to provide us with a backup of Roxas’s Keyblade, after all. Once you’re able to summon it, conditioning yourself to its use will become your top priority.”

He took another bite of ice cream, slowing and then stopping on the edge of the curb as another tram rolled into view from around a corner. As the tram passed through the street in front of them, he held out a hand to block the Replica’s path, though it had shown no sign of walking naively into the street this time. He glared at it anyway, as if for good measure.

“You’re learning, at least,” he admitted. “Caution is imperative, especially on a world you’ve never been to before. Keep that in mind going forward.”

They pressed onward, their pace now less harried, though Vexen still made a point to steer them out of the path of any locals coming directly their way. Eating the ice cream only slightly impeded the rhythm of his ceaseless lecture.

“Stay away from Roxas,” he said at one point, “at least for the time being. He’s barely cognizant as it is, and you’re hardly better. You need time to stabilize and develop more of his characteristics before I’ll be comfortable risking consistent exposure.”

He finished the ice cream and spared the empty stick a glance, noticing that for whatever reason, it had the word WINNER printed on both sides. When he tossed it away, it bounced and then fell into the groove between two cobblestones. No. _i_  slowed behind him, staring at the discarded stick, but he noticed its hesitation and barked a command that pulled it back to his side.

“No lollygagging, thank you.” He frowned once it reached him, adding, “As a matter of fact, I think that’s probably enough excitement for one day. I’ll admit you’ve done better than I anticipated, but we wouldn’t want to wear you out unnecessarily before your final inspection. Half an hour is plenty.”

There were just enough locals at either end of the street to make summoning a portal here unwise. Vexen weighed his options, then escorted the Replica back the way they’d come, still talking to it haughtily. They passed a bulletin board covered in flyers that rustled in the wake of their passing.

“I’ll be temporarily stationed at Castle Oblivion at some point in the near future,” he told the Replica. “But once I return, I’ll be observing you closely to make sure your functions don’t degrade. Should anything untoward happen to you in the course of your duties, I will set it right.” As if it had reacted, he added sharply, “But don’t dare use that as an excuse to be reckless. I’ve enough work as it is without you getting yourself into trouble, is that clear?”

It gave another of its tiny nods.

“Good.” Vexen made a dismissive gesture. “Remember that you are meant to be Number XIII’s replacement should anything befall him. If you behave foolishly, and _he_ winds up replacing _you_ , I’ll never hear the end of it.”

They turned a corner onto another side street, residential, deserted. Vexen moved diagonally to a point that he calculated would be the least visible from the nearest house’s windows, then looked down at the small figure by his side.

“Any questions or concerns?” he asked, pointlessly.

There was, of course, no answer.

“Well, if you retain nothing else from today’s venture, remember this.” He bent down so that he was eye level with his creation's expressionless face. _“I_ made you, after an extraordinary amount of effort, and consequently your performance and behavior reflect ultimately upon me. Never mind that most of the others don’t know what you are. They will be told in due time. And regardless of their opinions, it was the Superior himself who ordered your construction. Dull as you are, I nevertheless assume you can comprehend how important it is to keep in _his_ good graces.”

Silence.

“What have I been saying all afternoon? Nod if you understand me.”

A single, slow nod. Vexen grimaced, then shook his head and turned away, muttering, a portal of darkness swirling to life in the street beside them once he raised a hand.

“This little excursion was just a test run,” he told the Replica. “I am satisfied. Let’s return.”

The portal opened wider, blotting out the whole width of the street. Vexen stepped forward, but a strange sensation halted him, and he looked down to find that the Replica had caught hold of his coat.

“What is it?”

It said nothing, simply standing in his shadow, clinging gently to his coat and gazing up at him. He sighed in annoyance.

“You’ve shown improvement today,” he said grudgingly, “but you’ve a very long way to go yet. I’ll be keeping a close eye on your progress, make no mistake.” He put a hand on the Replica’s back, nudging it towards the portal. “Now come.”

It didn’t budge when he tried to nudge it forward, so he stepped into the portal himself, and it followed obediently, still hanging on to his coat. The darkness closed around them both like a veil.

It hadn’t been overloaded by this brief trip outside—a good sign. Hopefully that meant his calculations about its development cycle were correct, and it would produce the Keyblade on schedule. If not, he would have many uncomfortable questions from Xemnas to answer. Still...The theory was flawless, the construction flawless, the data he'd implanted unusual but not fatally so, and today had revealed no defects that hadn’t been obvious during production. No. _i_ was functioning as intended, and would doubtless continue to do so in his absence. If it didn’t...

Well, no matter. There would be plenty of time to oversee its development when he got back from Castle Oblivion.


End file.
